


Nightmares

by lulebell



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulebell/pseuds/lulebell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Up until recently, sleep wasn't an issue for her, that is until the nightmares started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks to serenitymeimei.

He had more than enough to keep him from getting bored. His cases, his hobbies, his bees. Distractions were plentiful and the more distractions he had, the less he thought about heroin and how numb it made him feel. But there were days that even his distractions couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting and on the nights he just couldn't, he would slip into her room and watch her sleep. 

Of course he knew when she's dreaming - her eyelids moved rapidly and her lips made the shapes of words she'd utter breathlessly. He makes mental notes, categorizing each night against the other and soon he saw a pattern. On the nights she has bad dreams, he brought her tea in the morning and on the nights she has good dreams, he would bring her coffee. 

"Caffeine is a stimulus, Watson," he said loud enough to wake her with a start. He held on to the mug of hot coffee tightly, outstretching his arm slightly. 

She had no idea what he was referring to.

"Um, yeah… it is." Her voice cracked and she rubbed her eyes. He hovered over he bed expectantly, waiting as patiently as he could, fidgeting his hands and rocking on his heels. 

"So instead of coffee," he starts when he realizes that she doesn't understand. "I've brought you tea." 

"Um… thank you." She looks up at him, her eyes begging for help. 

"Of course, tea is also a stimulant, but a weaker one than a fully brewed cup of morning jo, I believe that is the colloquial term." It was a statement, rather than a question. 

"You were having another nightmare," he continued. "The third one this week. If I were you, I'd talk about it with that therapist of yours." 

"Wait, what? How do you know how many nightmares I have and how do you know that I go to a therapist?" She sounded irritated but Sherlock expected that to happen. Watson needed some kind of caffeine intake within 30 minutes of waking up. This conversation was pushing the quarter-after mark. He made a mental note to adjust his averaging. 

"For the past three weeks, I've been watching you sleep. Four out of the seven nights, on different days, your breathing becomes more laboured and your rapid eye movement shifts to an even more rapid pace. Your limbs start to flail and at one point, you attacked your pillow, calling it a bitch as you punched it. One can assume that you were not having a pleasant dream. Most likely one where you were fighting, with an ex-lover, perhaps a female, with whom you were engaged in a love triangle, unbeknownst to you, of course. "

Watson sat up, and ignored Sherlock's growing exasperation. She let the comforter fall to her lap and reached out for the cup of tea. It was strong, the way she liked it, they way she needed it. 

"As for the second, until recently, you have had a standing appointment with this therapist. Twice a month, Tuesday mornings. Early, so that you can get in and out and back to your work as my sober companion. My dear Watson, try to keep up." He was bouncing on his heels, his finger tips flicked the top of his thighs. 

Watson took another sip of tea. She swallowed it slowly. 

"It wasn't an ex-lover," she said softly. 

Despite her unremarkable deduction skills, she began to see the pattern too. Sherlock smiled, happy with her progress. 

"Ah!" he he said loudly. "You're dreaming of your patient! Well, that is just lovely." He smiles at her broadly; her mug is not at all big enough for this morning. 

"Come along, Watson! We've got a particularly busy day ahead of us." 

He disappeared from her room while she finished off the rest of her tea and tried to wake up. 

\--

She pushed the memories away from her as best she could and immerse herself in Sherlock, his recovery, and his cases. She missed medicine, but this was a whole new world for her, a whole other challenge, one that she was finding herself more and more in tune with. 

But there were still days where the memories followed her as they walked down the street, he talking her ear off about subjects and topics she'd never thought of before and nights where those memories followed her into bed. 

And on the nights when she just couldn't, she slipped into his room and watched him sleep. She wondered what he dreamt of as her eyelids got heavy and her eyelids closed against her wishes. 

She awoke in her own bed with a cup of coffee beside her.


End file.
